Buongiorno, angelo mio
Damn right I got the gravy on the stove
Come over. Wear my jersey. Yell at the refs with me
I’ll feed you
Depends.
Got a signed contract waiting for me?
You think I’m stalling I’m not
I got notes to go over with you
Hit me with it.
Aight. Why they gotta live with you
Convenience. Control. Don’t trust nobody. Territorial.
I don’t let just anyone touch me. And I don’t fuck with cross-contamination. Boys keep their bodies clean and mine if they wanna stay in rotation.
And if he’s under my roof?
I know where he is and who he’s not fucking.
Men turn dumb the second they think they got freedom.
That’s some mob wife shit
Damn right. Loyalty or the river.
So they gotta keep their dicks locked up
But you get to do whatever the fuck you want?
Explain that one to me
If commitment went both ways, that’s called a relationship.
I don’t do relationships.
Framing it as one would give mixed signals.
Boys sign up to serve, not to settle down.
They can either agree, or get the fuck out.
Nah. Def not a relationship
More like a dictatorship
But none of them get in your bed, huh?
No one gets to breathe next to Allison Jane
Which is funny cus I remember a rooftop bet that never got settled
